


At Last

by 221BJen (jcoz1701)



Series: Twelve In Twelve 2016 [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6656446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jcoz1701/pseuds/221BJen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another offering for the 12 in 12 prompts! I am horrible at figuring out how to embed pictures so go to the tumblr to see if you can guess which pictures I chose :)</p><p>An old friend comes to visit and John has a chance to learn more about Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Last

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to EnduringChill, Callie4180 and gowerstreet for their tireless beta powers!

John heard a car, an expensive car, pull up to the kerb outside 221B. He looked out the window and all he could see was shining red, and then the tousled blonde hair of a man climbing out of the car.

"Client?" Sherlock asked over his shoulder as he looked out as well. John heard a sharply indrawn breath and turned to look at Sherlock in confusion. "Victor." Sherlock's voice was low and John wasn't sure if he’d heard him correctly.

"Who?" John turned to the door as they heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He looked at Sherlock and was shocked to see that he was nervous, a slight flush visible on his pale features.

Mrs. Hudson ushered in the same man that John had seen exit the Ferrari, giggling over something that he must have said.

"Sherlock, this is-"

"Victor."

“Sherlock!” The man’s voice boomed through the flat as he walked over to where Sherlock stood by the window, only having taken a single step toward the door. He opened his arms wide as if to embrace Sherlock, and John readied himself for the expected brush off for someone that dared act so familiar. It was usually his job to smooth over the hurt feelings.

His assistance wasn’t needed this time because Sherlock stepped into the man’s arms _ , Victor’s  _ arms, and readily returned the hug. For several seconds. John cleared his throat loudly enough that it made him cough unexpectedly. Sherlock pulled away from Victor and looked at John in concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll fetch you some water, dear.” John could tell that Mrs. Hudson was trying not to laugh. He gave Sherlock a pointed look and then cut his eyes to Victor.

“Oh! Yes. John this is Victor Trevor, an old friend from University.” At ‘old friend’ John’s eyebrows tried to climb up into his hairline. “Victor, this is Dr. John Watson. My partner.” The surprise was washed away by the fondness that he felt every time Sherlock introduced him like that. He just sounded so proud.

“How nice to meet you! I’ve followed your blog for years.” He reached out a hand for John to shake, still encased in black leather driving gloves. John shook his hand with the fleeting thought,  _ of course he wears driving gloves, he drives a sodding Ferrari _ ,  _ the wanker, _ until he realized why those gloves seemed familiar. They were the twins of Sherlock’s own gloves that rode around in the pockets of his ever present wool coat. Old friends. Really?

“Thanks for that. I haven’t updated it much lately. We’ve been, um, busy.” They had indeed. Back to back cases had taken up much of their time. And when they had a week to themselves to breathe, they hadn’t left the flat. Or the bed, for that matter. Mrs. Hudson had watched the telly at full blast until Sherlock ordered her wireless noise-cancelling headphones online and had them delivered. It was his voice that carried, so it was his responsibility.

He caught Sherlock’s eye and they shared a small smile that didn’t get by Victor at all. Victor grinned at Sherlock. “So how long have the two of you been together? It can't have been long. You're practically glowing, darling.”

John made a concerted effort not to bristle at ‘darling’ and decided to play nice. “A few months, but we've been flat mates again for over a year.” 

Victor nodded, his face sympathetic. “Ah, yes. You were flatmates before that nasty mess Sherlock got himself mixed up with. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, it must have been awful.” He seemed so sincere that John grimaced to himself. Now he couldn’t possibly dislike him. Damn.

Sherlock was watching John carefully. “What brings you to London, Victor?”

“I’m on holiday.” Victor was grinning at Sherlock, who was smiling back. “Or perhaps not. Can’t you tell?”

John could tell that this was an old game. He couldn’t quite figure out how he felt about this entire situation. It was just so  _ weird _ . Sherlock had called them old friends but Victor seemed more familiar than that. And the man was incredibly good looking. He wasn’t as striking as Sherlock but was more conventionally attractive. And they would make quite the pair. Victor was blonde with the hearty complexion of a man who spent a lot of time outdoors, and he seemed the perfect counterpoint to Sherlock’s pale features.

John felt a quick pulse of jealousy at how at ease Sherlock seemed with Victor. The only other person besides himself that Sherlock was like that with was Mrs. Hudson. At that thought, John wondered where she had gone. Surely their kitchen wasn’t in so bad a state that she couldn’t find a water glass. He excused himself and was ignored by both men as he made his way to the kitchen. 

Mrs. Hudson had made herself at home and was doing some of the washing up. John sighed. Evidently the kitchen was worse off than he’d thought. She looked up at him and smiled. “Sorry, dear, all of your glasses were in the sink.” She held one up that had something blue smeared inside. “And on the worktop.” He took that particular one away from her and gently put it on the table with Sherlock’s other glassware.

“I wouldn’t touch anything that came from over there, if I were you.” He leaned against the countertop while she worked, knowing that any protests would fall on deaf ears. “What do you think of that?” He nodded toward the sitting room as he heard a peal of laughter from Victor.

“A better question would be, what do you think?” She nudged him with her elbow. “Has he ever mentioned him before?”

John shook his head. “He’s mentioned that there was someone, well, before.” He could feel his cheeks flush. She was his  _ landlady _ after all. “But other than that, no.” 

She gave him a sly smile. “Well, he is rather fit, isn’t he?”

John snorted. “I suppose so.”

“Oh, I know you only have eyes for one man in this house and I daresay he only has eyes for you.” She gave him a knowing look at his sputtered protest. She dried her hands on the edge of her apron, pointedly avoiding the tea towel that was draped on the corner of the table. She patted his arm reassuringly and kissed his cheek. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“I know that.” John tried not to sound too indignant. He knew he didn’t have anything to worry about. It was just Sherlock’s old friend from uni. He heard another laugh, practically a giggle from the sitting room, Sherlock this time. Yep. Nothing to worry about at all.

Mrs. Hudson patted his arm again. “I’ll leave you boys to it.” He followed her into this sitting room and watched as Victor, the charming bastard, made her giggle like a girl when he kissed her hand. John hovered near his chair, feeling strangely awkward. Sherlock gave him an odd look, and John tried to smile normally. Sherlock’s odd look morphed into concern and John shook his head to try and dispel it. 

Victor, oblivious to what was passing between the other two men, turned with a blinding smile after ushering Mrs. Hudson through the flat door. “I have invited Sherlock and, of course, yourself to dinner tonight. I won’t take no for an answer.” John tore his eyes from Sherlock and looked at Victor’s hopeful face. 

“Yes, um, of course.” What else could he say? Sherlock was still looking at him as if he had suddenly sprouted wings, but Victor still didn’t notice.

“Brilliant! I’ll text the details to Sherlock.” He reached out to shake John’s hand again. “It was lovely meeting you.” He turned to Sherlock and clasped his shoulder with a fine-fingered hand. “And it was fantastic seeing you, darling. Until tonight.” And with a swirl of coat tails that would make Sherlock proud, he was gone.

Sherlock waited until the front door closed before rounding on John. “Are you alright with dinner?” 

John shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Except for the fact that dinner was with Victor, of whom John still knew nothing. He could never hide anything from Sherlock who looked at him with that damnable concern again. 

“John, I-” Sherlock cleared his throat. “Would you like me to tell you about him?”

Yes, yes he would. He wanted to know everything and, at the same time, didn’t want to know any of it. He didn’t want to think about a young and inexperienced Sherlock with this handsome man, who had probably been an even more handsome boy. “You don’t have to.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “I think I do. You will be more comfortable at dinner.” He gestured to John’s chair for him to sit and took his own seat. John sat, apprehensive as to what would come of this conversation but unable to resist the urge to learn more about Sherlock’s life before he knew him. Sherlock slid forward and held out a hand. 

John took it, still impressed by Sherlock’s now easy affection. It had been hard won. Sherlock, awkward and unsure at first, now eagerly reciprocated John’s gestures. Sherlock turned it over, John’s smaller hand caught up in his larger one, studying the knuckles that were scarred from punches thrown in the distant and not so distant past. He pressed a small kiss to those knuckles, and John’s heart swelled with love for him. 

“We met at University, as I said.” Sherlock’s voice was low and contemplative. “Victor’s dog, a Jack Russell, bit me on the ankle. Victor felt so bad about it that he helped me back to my room and kept checking back on me, even though I told him to go away.” He huffed out a laugh. “He was very persistent.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” John tried to rein in his jealous reaction with humour but Sherlock just gave him a raised eyebrow.

“John you remember how I was when we first met, right? I was much, much worse back then. It was a defense mechanism that I learned to wield with more precision as I got older, but back then it was-”

“Raw?” Sherlock nodded and John turned his hand so that he could lace their fingers together. He was starting to get the picture. In uni, Sherlock had been raw, untempered brilliance and it would have taken a special person to see the young man inside all of that bravado.

“Victor became my friend. My first real friend. I had people that would come to me with problems or a need for academic assistance, but no one that actually wanted to speak to  _ me _ .” There was a hint of pink in his cheeks as Sherlock made this admission and he looked just like the shy vulnerable boy that he must have been. John wanted to hold him close and make sure that he knew how much he was valued just for being himself. He settled for a squeeze of fingers, encouraging Sherlock to continue.

“We weren’t anything  _ more _ until I spent the summer with him at his father’s estate. The first day that we were there, Victor showed me around the grounds and we spent the afternoon reading in the shade in a field behind the main house. The sun was starting to go down and we were going to make our way back when he looked at me,” Sherlock’s brow furrowed, remembering, in that way that John would  _ never, ever _ admit was adorable, “and then he-”

“He kissed you?” John’s jealousy had faded completely. He was thankful that Sherlock had found someone like Victor in a sea of people like Sebastian Wilkes. He still wanted to punch that wanker next time they saw him. He’d gladly shake Victor’s hand.

Sherlock gave John a small smile. “He did. It was my first.” He cleared his throat. “There were a lot of firsts that happened that summer.” He pulled back a little bit, sitting up straight. “Including my first case.”

John listened as Sherlock told him about Victor’s father and the tragedy that had befallen him. It hadn’t culminated until after they were back at school but he could tell that Sherlock still carried some guilt about it. He wanted to pull Sherlock back from that, to remember the good things that had happened back then. “Tell me more about that summer. The good things, I mean.”

The grateful look that Sherlock shot him proved that he’d made the right decision. “I remember that we went to a wedding, some cousin if I recall correctly. Victor actually took me as his date,” he chuckled to himself. “I was so proud.”

“You loved him.” John surprised himself with the statement, but it felt right. “Didn’t you.”

Sherlock looked at him from underneath his lashes. “I thought I did.” John felt his heart swell in his chest. They hadn’t said it, not yet, but they both knew it was true. Sherlock looked away again, lost in the memory. “They had a pavilion there, on the grounds, and they had covered it with fairy lights. I thought it a horrible waste of time and energy at the time, celebrating such an antiquated notion of ownership,” he stopped for a moment, thinking, “although I have to admit that I have acquired a new dataset since then.” 

John couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. He was going to tell him, tonight. Have it all out in the open so that there was no doubt that Sherlock was his and he was just as much Sherlock’s. It needed to be said out loud. “Was there dancing at this wedding?” He knew Sherlock’s fondness for dancing, remembered the lessons that he’d taken for granted in preparation for his own farce of a wedding. 

“There was, as a matter of fact. I initially refused, but Victor insisted and I finally relented. We danced together under a thousand cliches and I enjoyed myself very much.” He drew his hand from John’s and rose. “And that was that. After Victor’s father died, he went to live with his mother in India. We wrote for a while but then,” he shrugged. “We just didn’t. We lost touch. I’m actually intrigued to find out why he’s in London and decided to find me. I know it’s a business trip, but…”

He shrugged again. John could tell that he was waiting to see what his reaction would be, if he would be jealous, or worse apathetic. John stood and pulled him down for a soft kiss. “I’m glad you had him back then.” Sherlock made a surprised noise and wrapped an arm around him, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss. John smiled when he pulled back and buried his face in Sherlock’s neck, running the tip of his nose along his jaw. He nipped at an earlobe and spoke low and rough directly into Sherlock’s ear. “But, I will say that if he looked you up hoping to rekindle something, I will not hesitate to alleviate him of that notion.” 

Sherlock chuckled and enfolded John in his arms, kissing his temple. “He wouldn’t dare. He knows a losing proposition when he sees one.” He buried his nose in John’s hair, ruffling it with his breath. “Now shall we get ready?”

John nodded allowed Sherlock to lead them to their room. A shared shower and some playful groping later, they were on their way.

\--

Dinner with Victor was everything that John hoped it would be. He was content to sit and listen to Sherlock and Victor catching up, only interjecting every now and then. It was gratifying to see Sherlock so relaxed with another person, helped along by a glass or two of wine. The evening ended far too quickly when Victor made his apologies, citing an early business meeting.

“I just can’t figure it out. I know you’re in London for business, but I can’t quite deduce why you showed up at my flat. Is it a case?” Sherlock was a little tipsy and John smiled at his easy words, so different from his usual precise diction. 

Victor looked at John and grinned, picking up on the same thing. “No case, Sherlock. I just wanted to see you and make sure that you were being taken care of.” He tipped the last bit of wine in his glass towards John. “And I am happy to see that you are in very good hands.” 

John nodded his thanks, tipping his own glass before taking a sip. Sherlock blinked at Victor for a moment before frowning. “It’s always something. Damn.” He picked up his glass and raised it for a toast. “Well, then, here’s to old friends,” he nodded at Victor, “and to being in very, very good hands.” He gave John something bordering on a leering look and John didn’t know whether to laugh or be extremely turned on. 

“I’ll drink to that,” Victor said, laughing. He turned to John. “I think you need to take him home before he makes any more toasts.”

John chuckled, feeling long fingers creeping up his thigh. “That’s my cue, then.” He stood, drawing a disappointed sigh from Sherlock. “Victor, it was very nice to meet you.” He offered his hand, which Victor gladly stood to shake. John held it for a second longer, looking into his eyes. “Thank you.”

Victor gave a serious nod as he released John’s hand. “Of course.”

\--

They parted ways after that, retrieving coats and putting on gloves, to head out into the chilly air. Sherlock surprised them both by giving Victor a warm hug farewell before turning to head towards Baker Street with John. He was evidently still feeling the effects of the wine because he grasped John’s hand in an uncharacteristic display of affection. They weren’t generally this open when out in public, but John decided to just go with it. 

He was still feeling warm inside as they approached the flat, but instead of opening that familiar black door, he tugged Sherlock toward the park instead. “Let’s walk off some of that wonderful dinner, what do you think?” 

“I’m amenable.” Sherlock gave him a smile and they walked. By some chance of fate, there had been a party in the park and a small gazebo was there, fairy lights still twinkling where they had been strung. John smiled and tugged Sherlock toward it, looking around to see if the party was still going on and if they would be intruding.

Sherlock rolled his eyes but followed where John led. It was perfect. They stopped in the middle of the wooden platform and John took his hand from Sherlock’s to pull out his mobile. He scrolled through until he found what he was looking for and set the device on the railing. He tapped ‘play’. The first notes of ‘At Last’ started to play. 

John turned to Sherlock and held out his hand, beckoning for him to come closer. The perpetually adorable crinkle between Sherlock’s brows was present and he looked at John in confusion. John wiggled his fingers at him again and then huffed when Sherlock didn’t move. “Will you dance with me or not, you prat?”

The resulting crooked smile made John feel so full of love for this beautiful, awkward man that he felt he would burst with it. Sherlock finally stepped toward him and took his hand. “Well, when you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?” John snorted and pulled him close.

“It’s not a waltz but I hope it’ll do.” They swayed together under the twinkling lights, holding each other tight, fingers clutching heavy wool and black canvas. John tucked his head under Sherlock’s chin and closed his eyes. “I love you.” His words were low but he knew they’d been heard as their swaying stuttered to a halt. He looked up into Sherlock’s eyes, trying to suss out what was going on in that gigantic brain in amongst the surprise he saw there. 

“You love me?” The surprise in his voice was heart-breaking. It was like he couldn’t believe that someone had the ability to care for him like that. John gave him a kiss and encouraged him to begin their swaying dance again.

“Of course I do.” John tucked his head under Sherlock’s chin again. “Just thought it needed to be said is all.” 

“That,” Sherlock said, the words jerking out of him, “I do too.” 

John smiled. “I know.”

“You do?” 

“Since the day we met. Sorry it took me so long to figure it out.”

He felt Sherlock’s cheek resting on top of his head. “Well, you are an idiot.”

John huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I know. But I’m your idiot.”

“And I yours.”

They danced until the song ended and later on, if John heard Sherlock softly singing the words, he never let on.


End file.
